We cuddled on the couch for a while as I stroked her hair. Neither of us said anything, but it didn’t feel awkward. Just peaceful.
I heard the key turn in the door before Angel did. I was really glad Colton hadn’t come home ten minutes earlier because that would have been one hell of an interruption.
Quickly, I pulled the blanket off the back of the couch to cover us before he walked in. Even though we were fully clothed, I still felt the need to shield Angel because of the intimacy of the moment.
Surprised by the front door swinging open, Angel squeaked and slid behind me on the couch. I put my arm around her so she could rest her head on my chest.
“Hey,” Colton said casually as he went by to the kitchen. To him, it probably just looked like we were lying down watching a movie.
Angel looked at me with wide eyes and we both had to fight off the goofy grins on our faces when he came back into the room, chugging a bottle of water. He flopped down into the chair by the couch.
“So, what did you guys do today?” he asked.
“Just hung around here. Did some cleaning,” I told him, and I was proud of myself for being able to keep a straight face. “And we watched a kickass movie about an old lady who liked to tell stories about people getting killed and shit.”
Angel elbowed me in the stomach and snickered at my summary of her favorite movie.
“Sounds awesome,” Colton said, and he filled us in on the details of the Mount Vernon pick up—which was pretty uneventful—then, finally, said he was headed to bed.
Shooting the shit with Colton while I had sticky jizz inside my boxers wasn’t something I ever cared to do again. To say it was awkward was an understatement.
As we got into bed that night, Angel and I didn’t bother putting space between us as we fell asleep. Meeting in the middle of the bed, Angel curled up next to me as I put my arms around her.
I knocked on the old screen door a second time as I stood on Beverly Johnson’s porch. Maybe she didn’t hear it. Old people had trouble hearing sometimes, right?
I unfolded the piece of paper Karen gave me to make sure I had the right address.
204 Walnut Street
I looked up at the house number, then the street sign on the corner. I was definitely at the right place.
The house was tiny, with a white painted brick exterior. Dark green trim lined the windows, reminding me of the color of Travis’s eyes. I rolled my eyes at myself because my infatuation with him was reaching new levels.
I was about to knock a third time when the inside door swung open.
“Can I help you?” the old woman said through the screen.
She was very small—probably two inches shorter than me. She had thick rimmed glasses and her short, curly hair was dyed a shade of black that almost looked blue.
Even though it was almost ninety degrees outside, she wore a fuzzy pink housecoat that looked really warm. I would’ve been burning up in that thing. I had on shorts and a tank top, but I was still sweating bullets.
“Hi, I’m Angel,” I introduced myself. “Karen Hawkins sent me over to mow your lawn?”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled and came out to join me on the porch. “You can just call me Beverly. Calling me ‘ma’am’ makes me feel too fucking old,” she said sweetly, and I did a double-take.
Did she just say what I think she said?
Beverly started down the steps and I followed her around the house to the backyard while she continued to talk. “The mower’s in the shed. The little boy from down the street usually cuts my grass, but he’s away at summer camp. My fucking yard looks like shit.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing, but inside I was dying.
Beverly had a potty-mouth. I was under the impression little old ladies didn’t cuss. Obviously, I was wrong.
Despite my efforts to keep the laughter in, a giggle escape anyway and I tried to cover it with a cough.
“Yeah, it does look like it needs some work,” I agreed. Not only was the grass overgrown, but dandelions and weeds were scattered everywhere.
She guided me to a shed, which looked like it might not hold up for much longer. White paint peeled off the rotted wooden siding, and the hinges screeched as the door opened. Inside was an ancient-looking push mower.
“You know how to work this thing?” Beverly asked as she gave it a light kick with the toe of her pink house slippers.
I shrugged. “I can figure it out.”
I couldn’t figure it out.
There had been instructions on the mower at one time, but it was too faded and scratched up to make out the words. Not helpful.
I pulled at the cord for what had to be the twentieth time, putting all my strength into it. This time it actually started to sputter to life and I let out a triumphant shout.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last more than a couple seconds before it died. I let out a frustrated groan and wiped the sweat from my forehead. The long, green blades tickled the back of my thighs when I sat down in the grass, and I wondered what I should do next.
Maybe I should wave the white flag and admit defeat.
I picked an overgrown dandelion from amongst the weeds. Spinning it between my fingers, I blew the fuzz into the breeze and made a wish.
It was a simple wish. Home and happiness. The two things I wanted most.
“Looks like you might need some help,” a gravelly voice said behind me.
I turned to see an old man—probably in his eighties—standing on a concrete patio in the backyard next door. He was wearing khaki pants that were being held up by suspenders over a white button-up shirt. On top of his head was a weathered-looking hat that said ‘Army’.
“Yeah. This thing is trying to kill me,” I sighed dramatically as I pointed to the uncooperative piece of machinery.
He barked out a laugh. “It can be tricky. First thing you gotta do is check to make sure it’s got gas in it.”
Oh.
“Well, that would make sense,” I said, feeling a bit dense for not thinking of something so obvious.
The man got down to his knees to unscrew the gas cap and he peered inside. “Yep. Got gas,” he confirmed and put the cap back on. “Next, you gotta push this button here three times. It pumps the gas into the lines so it can start.”
He pointed to the button and I did what he said.
“Now,” he said as he stood up, “gotta hold onto this lever, unless you want the engine to stop. Then you pull the cord. And you gotta pull it fast.” He whipped his arm back, mimicking the motion.
I grabbed the lever and brought it down to the handle with one hand, while I reached for the cord with the other. Pulling as hard as I could, I yanked on the cord and the mower roared to life.
I squealed as it lurched forward and I had no choice but to hang on and walk along with it. The man was laughing so loud I could hear it over the noise of the mower.
“Thank you!” I yelled back at him as I continued to stumble forward.
Once I got going, it really wasn’t that hard. The worst part was the heat. Earlier, I had put my hair up in a messy bun and I was glad to have it off my neck and shoulders, which were dripping with sweat.
Beverly’s yard wasn’t huge, so my job was done in about twenty minutes. After I was finished, I was putting the mower back in the shed when the man from next door came back over.
“Not bad, little lady, not bad,” he said as he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Ernie.”
I wiped my hand on my shorts before returning the handshake. “Angel.”
“Any chance you’re looking for more yards to mow?” he asked.
“Yeah, definitely,” I said, excited at the possibility of getting more work. More work meant more money.
“My yard’s bigger, but I’ve got a riding mower,” he boasted, hitching his thumbs under his suspenders. “When are you free?”
“Um, right now?”
“You’re hired!” he exclaimed, and his smile was contagious.
“I won’t expect you for at least half an hour.” He started back towards his house. “Beverly loves company. She’s probably got lemonade and cookies set out already.”
Funny thing was, Ernie was right. Well, he was right about the lemonade. Not so much the cookies, but he was close. Sitting on a fancy plate in the middle of Beverly’s kitchen table were a bunch of unwrapped Twinkies.
The inside of her house smelled like an interesting combination of Bengay and cupcakes, and all the rooms looked like they hadn’t been redecorated since the ’70s. She showed me to the bathroom so I could wash my hands and I was amused by the fact that everything was pink—the walls, sink, toilet, and carpet.
In the kitchen, her appliances were an avocado green and the walls were plastered with wallpaper full of bright orange flowers.
“So, how did you end up in Tolson?” Beverly asked as we sat down at the table for our snack.
“I’m just sort of passing through. I’m going to California to see my mom,” I explained. “Travis, Karen’s son, is letting me stay with him for a few weeks.”
“Ah, yes,” she hummed. “That boy is one fine piece of ass.”
Shocked by her brash statement, I inhaled some of the lemonade I was drinking and started coughing violently.
She continued speaking, completely ignoring my inability to breathe properly. “Now, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not gonna try to take your man. He’s too young for me anyhow.”
I switched between coughing and laughing while I tried to clear my airway.
After getting myself under control, Beverly and I chatted for a while. She told me she’d been a widow for fifteen years and she had three sons, all who lived in different parts of the country. She also had five adult grandchildren.
“They keep telling me I need to get a cell phone so I can FaceTime. I don’t even know what that is. Some days, I can’t even figure out how the hell to work my own damn television!” She laughed, shaking her head. “As long as they call me once a week and come home every Christmas, I’m happy.”
She paid me thirty dollars—which was more than I thought I’d get—and I told her I’d mow for her next Monday as well.
“Thank you for the lemonade and Twinkies,” I said, slipping the money into my back pocket.
“Any time. And I mean that. I don’t get many visitors,” she told me as we stood on her front porch. “I’d love it if you came by more. I’m always here.”
Although she smiled, I could see something behind her eyes—not quite sadness, but something else. I understood that look because I had it, too. It was loneliness.
“I’d love to come back,” I said, and her face brightened. “Most of my days are free. Travis works at the shop during the week, and I don’t have many friends in town.” I shrugged.
“Well, you have at least one now,” she beamed.
After mowing Ernie’s yard, I could fully appreciate the luxury of a riding mower. Not only was it much easier to start, but the grass was cut in no time. With the breeze, I didn’t even break a sweat.
Ernie was waiting for me on the back patio with a bottle of water when I finished. A large oak tree shaded the area, and I was grateful to be out of the hot sun.
I greedily gulped at the cold water until it was almost gone.
“Thank you for the water,” I said, remembering my manners. “And thanks for taking a chance on someone who’s obviously a hazard around heavy machinery.”
He laughed. “Ah, you did just fine. I’m just glad you didn’t mow over my marigolds.”
As we sat we made light conversation about the weather, and he mentioned how well the fields were doing this summer—not something I knew a lot about, but apparently that was great for the local farmers.
He didn’t ask me what my story was, and I had to admit it was refreshing. He didn’t care about where I came from or how I got here. He just seemed grateful for the company.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t a bit curious about him. I couldn’t stop myself from asking a few questions about his life, even though I knew I was being nosy.
“So do you have any kids?” I asked.
“Nope, no kids. Never married either,” he stated.
“Why not?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Way to pry into the man’s business, Angel.
“I had a high school sweetheart once. She was the prettiest thing this town ever saw,” he said with a distant look on his face. “But I messed it up.”
Now I was completely enthralled with his history. My butt scooted to the edge of the plastic lawn chair. “What happened?”
“I was a year ahead of her in school. After graduation, I joined the military. I knew I would be away for a while… I was in love with her, but I was scared. Young and stupid. Broke things off and told her not to wait for me.” He sighed. “By the time I realized I’d made a mistake, she’d moved on—just like I told her to.”
“That’s so sad.” I frowned.
He barked out a humorless laugh. “You’re telling me. She still lives in town,” he added.
“Really?” I asked, shocked. “Where?”
“Right next door,” he tilted his head toward Beverly’s house.
“What?!” I gasped. “No way!”
“Yes way,” he nodded, regret painting his face.
“You know she’s totally single, right?” I asked, pointing at the house next door. “You should do something about that.”
“Bah,” he made a dismissive sound and waved his hand as if chasing the notion away. “Say, do you like balloon animals?”
It took me a second to catch up with the abrupt change of subject.
So random.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”
He went inside his house and came back out with a pink balloon. After blowing it up, he started twisting and turning it until it resembled a poodle, and handed it to me.
“That’s so cool,” I said, turning it this way and that, trying to figure out how he did it.
“As much as I’d like to pay you with balloons, I believe I owe you some money.” He pulled out his wallet. “What did Beverly pay you?”
“Thirty.”
“Here’s thirty-five.” He handed me the cash. “I gotta one-up her. That’ll really get her goat.” He grinned.
As I walked down Main Street, I smiled. I’d gained sixty-five dollars, a pink poodle, and two new friends.
“Hey,” I heard Angel say behind me while I was under the hood of an old Buick.
Just the sound of her voice caused my pulse to skyrocket. I turned to face her as I wiped my hands on my coveralls. “Hey, you. How did the mowing go?”
“It was a rough start, but Beverly’s neighbor helped me figure it out. Aaaand he had me mow his lawn, too, so I made extra.” She beamed as she rocked on her heels.
I went to kiss her, but she held up her hand and took a step back.
“I stink really bad right now,” she stated.
She did smell, but I didn’t think it was bad. She smelled like sunlight, summer air, and fresh-cut grass. Her hair was a mess piled on top of her head and pink tinted her face and shoulders from being in the sun.
Like always, I thought she looked gorgeous.
“I stink, too. We can stink together.” I grinned as I picked her up by the waist. My hands were coated with dark grease and I liked the idea of leaving my handprints on her.
Her legs automatically made their way around me and linked behind my back as I brought my lips to hers. She immediately sighed and opened her mouth to let me slip my tongue past her lips.
Unfortunately, the kiss didn’t last long because we heard someone loudly clear their throat.
“None of that in here,” Hank said with a hint of amusement as he walked past us to his office. “Don’t want to attract the wrong kind of business.”
When I put Ang
el down I noticed she was holding something in her hand.
“Is that a balloon animal?” I pointed at the pink object.
She looked at it like she’d forgotten she had it. “Yeah. Ernie, Beverly’s neighbor, made it for me. Neat, huh?” she asked, holding it up for me to see. Then she reached into her back pocket and handed me something. “Here. This is for you.”
I looked down and counted sixty-five dollars.
“No way.” I tried to hand it back but she wouldn’t take it. “I’m not taking your money, Angel.”
“You’ve already spent that much on food for me. You have to. I won’t take it back,” she said stubbornly. “Please?” she begged as she gazed up at me.
Shit.
Why did I have such a hard time saying no to her?
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I could tell this was going to be an issue. There was no way in hell I would take her money when she needed it so badly.
I decided to placate her—for now—and she let out a sigh of relief when I put the cash in my wallet.
That night when we got into bed Angel told me Beverly swore like a sailor, and I laughed when she told me about their first encounter. Dropping the F-bomb when you first met someone was a bold move. I guess when you’re that old, you just don’t give a fuck.
Nighttime was becoming my favorite time of the day. Sure, I liked lying next to Angel, liked touching her, but it wasn’t about physical contact.
After the lights went out, we talked. We got to know each other. I learned random details about her. Like the fact that her favorite number was eleven, but she had an irrational fear of the number twenty-three. And how she hated the color orange because it made her look ‘washed out’.
It didn’t matter how insignificant the detail was—if it was about her, I wanted to know.
We were lying in bed, facing each other as I traced her face with my finger. I slid the tip of my finger over her brows, down her cheek, and across her lips.
When I remembered this weekend’s plans, I thought I should let her know what was going on.
“So this weekend is the annual Tolson Summer Fest,” I said, running my finger down the length of her nose. “There’s a parade on Saturday and I’m supposed to drive the semi. You want to ride shotgun?”
The Good Guys Box Set: TRUCKER, DANCER, DROPOUT, and A Trucker Wedding Page 11